


Yes, Coach!

by canyoubelieve23



Category: Women's Soccer RPF
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-09-20
Updated: 2016-09-26
Packaged: 2018-08-16 06:41:07
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 11,348
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8091580
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/canyoubelieve23/pseuds/canyoubelieve23
Summary: Coach/Principal AU. Coach Heath is trying to win her fourth championship for her girls' varsity soccer team. Ms. Press is trying to make a lasting impression on her new high school. So, what shall happen as workplace tension ensues?





	1. The First Meeting

Tobin Heath is back home in Basking Ridge, New Jersey. After descending off of Frank, the large red tractor who loyally helps her trim and take care of her field, she now stands in the middle of her sanctuary. Tobin takes a sip from her coffee, soaking in the tranquil emptiness of her soccer field.

The scoreboard that stands at quite a distance lets a silhouette form as the sunshine breaks just beneath it. The number of times that Tobin has seen this particular image is ridiculous, but it always seems to endear her. She smiles, remembering the first time she discovered it--a Tuesday morning in her Freshman year after finding out she made the varsity team. Young Tobin practically felt invincible after reading her name from the list, and she admittedly skipped her first period class that day, stuck daydreaming about someday winning championships.

Tobin shakes her head with a grin and climbs back up on Frank. She turns the key and hears him roar with excitement. 

“C’mon bud, let's get outta here. Practice is starting soon.”

…

“Sweet service, Deb!” Tobin yells out to the field of high school varsity girls. “Way to hit the upper corner, Han! I see you, I see you!”

Tobin is always so pumped for her girls, even if it is just practice. In every game, she is basically jumping up and down the sidelines, praising the creativity of her players on the pitch. Her coaching style is to nurture confidence within her players, and it, thus far, has proven foolproof, for she has won three championships back-to-back since she had started coaching.

Tobin blows her whistle and her team gathers around her. All out of breath after playing a game of 8v8, the girls are patting each other’s backs and giving each other words of encouragement. Tobin grins proudly. 

“Hey, nice scrimmage everyone. We are all getting better in our connections, our build-up is getting there. Some shaky passes, but nothing that we can't fix. I know the teams were lopsided today, but I really wanted to focus on strengthening the defense with some of you, and y’all did pretty well. But, you know, at the end of the day, yellow team won with a whopping 4-2, and you know what that means: loser gets to run two suicides on the field!” 

The girls in red all groan, their legs already pulsing with exhaustion after playing hard defense against the best attacking players on the team. 

“How about we do one and then a couple of push-ups?” their senior goalie, Kylah Henry, negotiates desperately. “I don’t think I can handle all that running, coach. I am a goalie for a reason.”

Tobin chuckles, already expecting the senior to jump in with a bargain. “Well I beg to differ. Maybe if you ran some more, then maybe you could have stopped that chip in from Han in the first half,” Tobin reasons. “How about I give you an extra suicide as a favor? Y’know just to look out for you? We can’t have anymore of these slow chase downs.” 

A smirk cheats upon the coach’s face, knowing fully-well that her star goalie is in prime physical condition and making her run an extra suicide would not have made much of a difference, aside from the unnecessary torture. But, because Tobin is not the hardass coach and can oftentimes be seen too nice than needed, she needs to scare her players from time to time.

But, whether or not she knew that her coach was just joking, Kylah’s face drops, deeply threatened by the thought of extra punishment. “Man, coach, you is cold. Alright, alright, two suicides it is then.”

Tobin laughs. “It was worth the shot, Ky.” The coach then turns towards the rest of her team, who had been bubbling, amused by their goalie’s bravery. “Alright, alright,” Tobin says, calming down the chatter, “Yellow team, you guys aren't completely off the hook. You have a suicide and then 20 burpees.” 

Tobin perches an eyebrow with a smug half-smile after seeing the little pouty huffs escape from the team in yellow. She brings her whistle up to her lips, and yells “Let’s get hustling!” disallowing any more time for her girls to make complaints and/or excuses. 

Once she blows her whistle, all the girls run out to the field. Tobin then checks her watch and sees that practice will end at a good time, giving the girls a good 30 minutes to finish their workouts, shower, and then get ready for school. She bobs her head, content with herself. 

“Hey, Harry!” her assistant, Allie Long, calls out to Tobin. “Someone here wants to talk to you.”

Tobin turns around and spots Allie near the bleachers, standing beside another woman who was wearing a form-fitting black pencil skirt and a purple blouse. The woman’s dark hair is tied up in a clean, tight ponytail, and, oh my god, Tobin’s mind momentarily blanks when she sees the woman’s striking green eyes. And then her smile...people always compliment Tobin for hers, but this woman’s superstar grin could outshine it easily. Tobin gulps.

“Uh, yeah, Coach Heath here,” she barely gets out, with a small raise of her hand. 

The woman smiles at the sight of Tobin, thanks Allie for showing the way, and walks the distance between her and the coach. She pulls her hand out and says, “Hi, I am Christen Press, the new principal who just transferred in from LA. I wanted to formally introduce myself. I didn't get to catch you in today’s meeting earlier, but, I guess, now I know why.”

Finally letting go of the new principal’s hand, Tobin stutters. “Oh, yeah, sorry about that.” Tobin rubs the back of her neck, feeling a sudden chill there after stealing another glance at those olive eyes. “It is just that early practices work best with my schedule. Being a high school coach doesn't necessarily bring in a lot of money, obviously, and--”

“No, no, no! You aren't in trouble,” the principal urges, saving the coach from her rambling. “With everything you have done for this program and for this school's reputation, I just wanted to meet the person responsible. Everyone here has been telling me that you are the best coach in Jersey.”

Tobin smiles at the title, as well as the principal’s chirpy enthusiasm, but it did not feel right being the one accredited to it without the mention of the amazing team behind her. “Well, I don't know if I am the best..The girls certainly make me look good. They basically do all of the work. I just blow the whistle and tell them what to do.”

“Right, right,” Christen smiles, pleased to hear Tobin’s undeniable loyalty to her team. 

The principal then takes a moment to watch how the girls were doing. She sees them busting their butts off, trying to finish the rest of their runs on the field. 

“Suicides on every line, Coach? That’s some intense stuff you have going on here,” Christen jokes lightly, feigning a sort of faux-distress for the girls’ current physical extrusions. “How could you ever be so cruel?”

Tobin chuckles, enjoying her playfulness. “Ah, that is not too hard for them, considering that they are all amazing players. Actually, I haven’t seen a team this good out of my three years here, so this should be a piece of cake.” 

“I’m sure,” Christen smiles, not doubting the coach’s confidence. “But,” she continues, “runs like those are definitely the worst. I remember it feeling like my legs were going to just give out at any moment. It’s probably a good thing that I haven’t played in years. I don’t think I can even handle running half the field now!”

“You used to play?” Tobin asks, interest suddenly sparking. It’s not that she wasn’t interested before (because she certainly was), but, how could Tobin stop herself once she knows that soccer is involved?

“Yeah,” Christen replies with a sort of modest pride, “Hermann Trophy winner, Class of 2010 at Stanford.”

Christen does not want to seem like a show-off, and, honestly, she is far from egotistical. It is not usual for her to mention any of her decorated soccer history with her colleagues, but, she knew it would serve as an impressive icebreaker for the ex-USWNT player and now head coach of her high school. She laughs shyly, noticing how the coach’s eyebrows rise, truly impressed. 

“But I’m sure that is, like, nothing compared to your national team career,” Christen drills quickly, feeling slightly uncomfortable with sharing information that could be easily teetering over the line of narcissism. 

Tobin, however, shakes her head with disbelief, not believing that Christen was actually being modest right now. “No, that honestly is freaking incredible. I was the runner-up for the Hermann Award in ‘09, so I’m sure you were a soccer superstar, but...if you were that good, why did you stop playing?”

Christen does not answer immediately, and Tobin winces slightly to herself. She wonders if that touched a sore spot for the principal. Or if maybe Christen was feeling uncomfortable with how quickly she was already trying to push past personal boundaries, especially, when just having met each other like a couple minutes ago. Either way, Tobin has never felt so hyper-aware while conversing with someone else before and she is telling herself to get a grip.

Christen takes a breath for preparation and finally begins to speak. “It's not--”

“--It’s okay,” Tobin swoops in, not taking any chances to miss an apology. “You don't have to share, I mean, I didn't mean to overstep, and--” 

“You're not,” Christen interrupts as well, but with a reassuring finality in her tone. “I’m sorry, it’s just that I’m not used to talking about soccer with my colleagues, so I was kind of at a lost for words over there.” 

“Oh,” Tobin responds, pleasantly surprised, but slightly embarrassed for freaking out the way she did. “Soccer isn't a big hit with the district board members?”

Christen smiles. “Definitely not.”

Christen enjoys talking with the coach. She likes how the brunette mumbles, how she never seems to stand still, and, especially, how her voice dramatically changes whenever soccer becomes a point of conversation. Christen definitely wants to continue her conversation with the coach and talk about soccer (and, yes, Christen is such a soccer buff), but she realizes that the girls were slowly finishing up their runs and burpees and now gathering around nearby. 

“Speaking of soccer..” Christen says, with an ever-so-slight disappointment etching her tone. She points behind Tobin.

Tobin turns around to see that the girls are all sprawled out on the grass, sweating and breathing heavily after their vigorous workouts. The coach laughs at the sight and apologetically excuses herself from Christen so that she can then share some last couple words to the team before they leave for classes.

“Alright, everyone, circle up!” Tobin calls out, feeling extremely relieved that she can now focus on her girls instead of having to constantly remind herself to breathe in front of the incredibly attractive new principal. 

Tobin lets out a breath and continues, “Before I let you guys go, I just wanted to say that everyone did great today. I was just telling our new principal that you guys are one of the best teams I have ever seen in my three years here. Isn’t that right, Miss...Mrs.? Ms. Press?” Tobin stammers with the formality. The coach attempts to look for a ring, but the principal’s hand was conveniently hidden behind crossed arms.

“Ms. Press is just fine,” Christen answers, “and yes, yes you did.” She nods her head, in a way to encourage the flustered Tobin to continue on with the team talk.

Tobin bites the inside of her cheek, but continues on where she left off, “And, uh, well, I just have a lot of faith in you guys. You all have skills that is unique to you as a player, and I hope you guys trust me enough to let me bring out the best in you. I am sorry for killing you all today with the suicide runs after an intense scrimmage like that, but, obviously, it is only to make you girls better. You all are so talented, and you have no idea how grateful I am to be your coach.”

“Coach, you are gonna make us tear up!” senior midfielder, Deborah Jenkins, announces, already glossy-eyed. “Why are you being so emotional on the first day of school?” she drawls.

Tobin chuckles and shrugs. “I’m not sure. I guess I just want to emphasize my focus for this year, which is to believe in each other. Past years, we were obviously still trying to get used to the feel for each other and learn the logistics of soccer. But, now, seeing that you are all mostly veterans and know what I expect with each technique and drill, I just want to really hone-in on team chemistry and individual skill. And, yeah, would that be cool with you guys? To have this be our game plan for the year?” 

While the girls nod their heads optimistically, agreeing with their coach’s end-of-the-year objective, Christen tilts her head with intrigue, curious about the laid-back style of the soccer coach. 

She notices that the coach does not set herself distinctively different from the teenagers. Instead, she speaks to them as though they are her own teammates. And the trickles of “umms” and “uhhs” recurrently escaping Tobin’s lips make Christen realize that these imperfect filler words may might as well carry the same weight as the most eloquent speech. She sees Tobin’s mind grinding and her cogs turning with every word she shared. It is somewhat slow-moving yet rapidly mellifluous, and the principal found herself holding out for every word.

“So, before I let you guys go. I guess it would be a good idea to let you meet our new principal. Ms. Press?” Tobin offers the stage to the Christen.

“Thank you, Coach,” Christen nods, gratefully taking it. “I will make it quick since I know you all need time to get ready for school.” 

Upon the mention of school, all the girls moan and groan, remembering that they still had an eight-hour day of boring classes after this. Their grumblings, however, elicits a grin upon Christen’s face, oddly enough. The principal smiles, appreciating how the girls did not treat her any different from their coach. The last thing she wanted is to be alienated simply because she was a new face.

“Hey now, hey now!” Tobin speaks up to control the chatter. “School is still important. Remember, it is student-athlete. You are a student first, and then an athlete,” reciting an old-phrase her old coaches used to say to her. Eventually the talking subsides and the coach nods her head towards Christen, spurring her to continue.

“Well, hi,” Christen starts again, “my name is Christen Press, and I will be your new principal for this school year. I just transferred in from LA a couple weeks ago, but I got to admit, New Jersey weather has not been treating me well.” Laughter bubbles up, everyone aware of their state’s reputation with chilly weather. The principal continues, “But, despite difficulties with the weather, this soccer program is one of the many reasons I decided to come here. You girls are making history, and it is very much contributing to this movement of growing the women’s sport. I know for a lot of people, high school is just a step for their future, and, yes, it absolutely is, but maybe it is more than just a step. So many students just want to get out of here as soon as possible and not think much about it. They are just going through the motions. And, if I can offer you one piece of advice, it would be to please enjoy the rest of your high school years. What you girls are doing, it may not seem like much now, but you are impacting in ways that you haven’t seen yet...”

And upon hearing Christen’s eloquent and well-thought-out speech, everything finally made sense for Tobin. Tobin finally figured out why Christen got a job as principal. 

The brunette soccer coach was absolutely, a hundred percent certain that Christen had hypnotized, bewitched, and entranced the district board into giving her the job. Obviously. Christen probably used her beautiful, mesmerizing green eyes and sweet, magical words to get her here. Tobin was also certain that, soon enough, Christen would climb up the career ladder to win raise after raise and promotion after promotion. Yeah, Tobin already sees all of this happening, and Tobin believes all of this because it was the only and, of course, the most logical explanation as to why she would be staring so intently at the principal’s lips right now. Why Tobin would even catch herself noticing the way Christen’s hands shift in cadence with her speech. Or even how her eyebrows lift and green eyes brighten whenever she said something particularly important. Yeah. It's her hypnotic super powers, Tobin insists.

Christen concludes, “Thank you for letting me ramble on to you guys. I know I am new, and it might be intimidating to meet the principal, especially when school hasn't even started yet, but please feel free to come by my office. It'd be nice to start breaking the ice with the students, so if you all could spread nice things about me with the rest of campus, that'd be awesome.”

As the principal gives out a quirky thumbs up, the girls laugh. And, of course, Kylah, being the forward and open person she is, is the first to speak.

“You got it, Ms. P,” she says, “You seem pretty cool, definitely better than Mr. Misogynist last year.”

Christen raises her eyebrows at the name. The rest of the girls laugh, but Tobin coughs, slightly embarrassed by Ky’s remarks, even though she didn't expect anything less to leave the 18-year-old’s mouth.

“And by that, she means that our previous principal, Mr. Mason,” Tobin corrects, “didn't necessarily treat the girls with the same respect as the guys, which really sucks, but you...you seem like you're going the opposite direction with everything, and--”

Christen laughs and touches Tobin’s forearm, which had been crossed in front of her chest as she was rambling away. “I think I got it, coach.” 

Tobin suddenly becomes aware of how warm her forearm becomes. “Uh, yeah, of course,” the coach nods, in attempt to collect herself after Christen’s first touch. “So, Ms. Press,” and Tobin looks at those green eyes once again, which changes the coach’s tone, making it softer and more hesitant than before, “do you need the girls for anything else? I don't really want them to be late to their first day of school.”

“Booo,” Hannah Gonzales, senior striker, whines from the back. “I'd rather skip AP Chem and hang out with our super cool new principal!”

Christen laughs yet again, which sort of becomes an early addiction for Tobin. The coach smiles at the bubbly resonance.

“No, your coach is right,” Christen announces. “But, as a thanks for letting me steal some time from you, I will email all the teachers that the varsity girl’s soccer team might be a little late to their classes.” Christen then opens up the leather-bound journal she had been holding and scribbles down notes to remind herself. “I will give you 20 minutes after the first bell, but please make sure you do get to class.”

The girls nod in agreement, happy for getting the extra time. 

On that same note, a frequency picks up from Christen’s back. In a scratchy tone, a voice that seems to resemble the head of school security, Mr. Michael D’Anthony, speaks through the school-issued walkie talkie. “Christen, I’m at the front of the school. Over.”

Christen apologizes for the interruption, and pulls out the walkie talkie to return a response. “Yes, Michael. I will be there soon. Over.” 

“I’m sorry again,” Christen says to the team, wiggling her walkie talkie. “Duty calls.”

“Oh, it is no problem,” Tobin replies, cautiously eyeing how Christen struggled to re clip the walkie talkie back onto the top hem of her skirt. Once the principal got it on, she looks up with an embarrassed smile and runs her fingers through her ponytail, adjusting it over her right shoulder. 

“So I guess I will see you around campus, then?” Christen asks generally, but her eyes intended for Tobin. 

“For sure,” Tobin responds back with her world-famous smile plastered upon her face. 

And, within that moment, after seeing the coach’s smile that was meant just for her, Christen swears that the birds were singing louder, the weather was a little warmer, and she got a feeling that a life was just saved somewhere in the world. Christen wishes that her own smiles could have the same effect as Tobin’s, so then maybe she could find a way to bottle up its effects and use it to help people of poverty or even dogs without homes, or, you know, just make someone's life a little better. If only it was physically possible for a smile to cure the world. Christen figures, though, that if this were to ever happen, it would have to be Tobin’s.

“Bye, Ms. P!” “Goodbye!” “See you around!” Christen hears all the girls call out to her, snapping her out from her thoughts.

Christen bites her lip, embarrassed at herself for being so distracted. But, she returns a wave to the soccer team and says her goodbyes. Just as soon as she starts to take her steps away though, all she could think about is how Tobin, who is standing back there so cool in her Nike get-up and snap back, would just be watching her leave. 

And Christen, suddenly feeling quite cheeky, thinks that it wouldn't hurt to walk with a little more hips than usual.


	2. Bosses Shmosses

Tobin feels like a pack mule. She carries a mesh bag of soccer balls on one shoulder, another bag of penny jerseys over the other, her orange backpack on her back, a cup of coffee on one hand, and a tower of cones on the other. She is walking barefoot, carefully minding any loose gravel that may appear in the parking lot, and trailing behind is her assistant, and best friend, Allie Long, who, at the moment, was being annoying as hell.

“Harry, you should’ve seen your face!” Allie laughs. “When she walked out of there, your jaw literally dropped and your eyes were just glazed over and were trailing her ass. I mean, I can't blame you, she was giving you a show over there. Are you sure you guys haven't met before?”

“For the last time, Allie, can you please just drop it?” Tobin begs. 

Tobin knows that she wasn't necessarily being discreet when she got a viewing of the principal’s backside, but she is just thankful that it was only her annoying best friend who noticed and not the girls. Tobin does not know what she'd do if the girls found out. Some of the girls on the team truly had personalities way too big for even their bodies to handle. Tobin shivers at the thought of them trying to hook her up with the principal..

“I really can't stop,” Allie wheezes. “When does this ever happen? Seriously. Just last night, you were trying to get rid of a girl, and now that it is a new day..BAM! The lesbian gods gift you with another super hot chick, who just happens to be our boss!” 

“Shut up, and help me with the trunk,” Tobin mumbles, struggling to balance some of the cones in her arms. “Left pocket.”

“Actually, now that I am thinking about it. The lesbian gods might be cursing you,” Allie ponders, as she strides her way next to Tobin, reaching into her friend’s sweatpants pocket to get the car keys. “Because, like, she is our boss. And isn't there a rule about not having sex with bosses or something?”

“Allie. Trunk.” Tobin says, trying to balance the tipping cones in her arms.

“Oh, right.” 

Allie pops open the trunk, and Tobin drops her arms so that all the cones could tumble into it.

“All I am saying, though, is that you gotta be careful,” a concerned Allie continues. “I know that coaching is whatever since you have other jobs on the side, but Christen actually has a lot on the line, being the principal and all.”

After throwing in the bags and her backpack, Tobin shuts the trunk down and says, “Yeah, I know. Look, how about I make a promise?” 

“Uh, look, Tobs,” Allie starts, knowing very well where this was heading. She has seen enough rom-com films, as well as, more than enough half-naked ladies scrambling out of Tobin’s room in early mornings to know what her best friend was going to say next. “I don't know if you should make a promise that you can't keep.” 

“But you don't even know what I was going to say.”

“Sure I do,” Allie chirps, “‘I promise to not fall in love with Ms-Green-Eyes and bang her senseless.’ Am I right? I am definitely right, huh?”

Tobin sometimes can’t handle Allie’s crass nature. Her best friend though does make a fair point. Tobin cannot really help herself when she is around women whom she finds gorgeous. It is in her nature. She falls fast, loves hard, and then moves on quickly, usually. So, if she were to come onto the principal, it'd end as a trainwreck just as soon as it starts. And having to work at the same school would just make things extremely awkward.

“I will assure you that I will be an adult, and just do the adult thing and try to diffuse the situation if it ever comes close to happening. There is no point in worrying now, we just met each other. Sure, I think she is attractive, but I know how to control myself. ”

“Uhuh..” Allie trails. “I don't know which is more unbelievable. The fact that you said that you will be an adult about this, or that you can keep it in your pants.”

Tobin rolls her eyes and slightly pushes her best friend. “I hate you, sometimes.”

“I love you, too, Harry,” Allie winks. “Now, c’mon, you gotta tell me what happened to that chick last night. You promised you’d tell me!”

The pair begins to walk over to their designated seats: Tobin on the driver’s seat and Allie in the passenger. Tobin had a shift for another job in an hour, so they had time to talk and grab some breakfast together. The friends don’t have this often, so they took advantage of any time they had to catch up each other up on their busy schedules outside of soccer practice. 

After buckling their seat belts and starting the engine, Tobin begins with a slight smirk playing upon her lips, “So do you remember the woman from aisle 5?” 

Allie nods as she reclines her seat, making herself comfortable in the car. She honestly enjoys hearing stories from Tobin the stud because it really shows a side that Allie does not usually see in her day-to-day life living with her best friend. In her eyes, Tobin is still just a kid, but after hearing her stories about one-night stands and seasonal flings, it just makes her realize that this kid is actually a full-grown woman and does actual adult things, like balancing three jobs, hooking up with people, and drinking to her heart’s content. That sort of thing.

Allie wonders, though, how her best friend could still be so blessed with such a lifestyle. Maybe, she considers, it’s because of those goddamn lesbian gods.

....

“So what do you guys think?” senior striker, Hannah Gonzales, asks her best friends, as she closes her athletic locker. “Did you all notice how coach was being oddly emotional today?”

“Oh yeah, she kept saying how ‘faithful’ she is to us and how ‘grateful’ she is to be our coach,” Deborah Jenkins, senior holding-mid, contributes, as she rustles her damp black hair with a towel. “But, I don’t know. I don’t think she was being any more emotional than normal. She is a pretty genuine person. But, she was definitely a lot more outspoken about it, so that was a bit weird,” Deborah admits.

“Exactly,” Hannah nods with a snap of her fingers. “So why is that? Why is our coach suddenly being more vocal about her emotions?”

“What are you pondering on about now?” Kylah responds curiously as she taps the top of the shorter striker’s head before slipping herself into her Ridge High soccer jacket. 

“I think that this will be her last year here,” Hannah speculates boldly.

“What?!” Kylah reacts. “What in the hell makes you deduce that?”

As much as Hannah loves Coach Heath, and loves that her coach has so much passion for the sport, she knows that soccer couldn’t be everything. While it was nice for Coach to have a coaching gig right out of her international and professional soccer career, Hannah figures that reality has to catch up to her at some point. She hears Coach Heath complaining, time and time again, about not getting paid more, especially after having brought the team three state championships. Hannah even found out that she was trying to balance two other jobs on top of coaching: one as a cashier in the local supermarket and the other as a waitress in the town’s favorite diner. Hannah just really thinks that their coach deserves more, and maybe Coach Heath has finally realized it as well. Hence, the kinda emotional first practice speeches.

Hannah does not say all this though. She knows that it was a little bit of a stretch, but, regardless of whether her speculations were right or wrong, she still has this undeniable gut feeling that it was going to happen, one way or another. 

“No coach is that emotional on the first day of practice without some sort of reason, and her reason is that she is gonna retire,” Hannah decides to say, sounding a bit too vague for her friends.

“Mm...I don’t know, Han,” Deborah says skeptically, as she brushes through her wet hair. “Since when was Coach like any other other coach, though?”

“Yeah, nice try, Han. I am gonna put my money on our new principal though. Coach be looking so scared whenever she was around her. Did y’all catch her stuttering and everything?” Kylah pitches, rightly so.

“Wait, Ms. Press? Why would Coach be scared of her?” Hannah questions. She really couldn’t imagine anyone being scared of their new principal, let alone their coach. Ms. Press really seems like an angel. Hannah, though, figures that her friend’s theory wasn’t that far off. Coach was definitely fumbling a lot with Ms. Press around.

“Maybe slightly intimidated having to meet the boss?” Deborah suggests. “Also, maybe that’s why Coach tried to speak all emotional and passionate. I know I’d be trying to show off more if my boss was around, too.”

“Hm, true,” Hannah considers, slightly convinced. She throws her soccer duffel over the top of the lockers and continues, “But, still. I just really have a feeling that this year won’t really end well.”

“So, in other words, you still believe that Coach will be ditching the team’s sorry behind once this season is over,” Kylah reiterates, as she tosses her duffel beside Hannah’s.

“Yep, basically.” 

Hannah then checks her iPhone and sees that they all have five minutes until they have to be at class. Most of the team already cleared out the locker room, with the exception of the three seniors and a couple brave juniors, who were all really milking the extra time they got from their new principal. The striker, however, does not wish herself or any of her teammates to get detentions on the first day of school.

“Hey, Deb, you ready?” Hannah asks, seeing that the midfielder was trying to fix her mascara last minute.

“Yeah..” Deborah trails with one dragged swipe of her wand upon her eyelashes. She flutters them a bit in front of her mirror. After feeling pleased with them, she then hurries to stick her mascara into her makeup bag...only to then accidentally drop the bag and spill all of its content onto the floor. “Shit!” Deborah exclaims.

Kylah laughs, bending down to help pick up the mess. “Girl, you gotta calm down.”

“We’re going to get detentions for being late!” Deborah freaks, which attracts the other two juniors who still lingered in the locker room. 

The two juniors, best friends and both defenders, Justine and Mariana, knelt beside the three seniors, helping them pick up the large collection of makeup products.

“Well I guess that’s what we get for pushing the time…” Hannah mumbles, kneeling down herself to reach for the assortment of blushes and bronzers. “Geeze, Deb! How much makeup do you even have?” 

“A lot,” Deborah huffs, collecting everything among the flurry of hands. And once the final lipstick got stabbed into the bag, she zips it up, chucks it into her locker, and slams the door shut. She turns to the girls, bringing up her backpack to her shoulder, and says exhaustedly stressed, “Alright, I’m ready!”

Kylah laughs, “You sure about that?” as she points out how the midfielder’s black damp hair had left water spots conveniently placed around her breasts.

Deborah immediately turns tomato red and snaps her body around to quickly open her locker and grab a new shirt--a shirt that would not make her boobs look like they were leaking, for freaking’s sake.

…

 

“You sure you got all that?” Michael D’Anthony, head of Ridge High security, asks, amazed at the writing speed of the little woman before him.

“Just about..” Christen mumbles as she scratches in the last couple of words the man had just shared about camera placements around campus. 

She is doing this, so she can be prepared and knowledgeable of how the school works. So she can allow change to transition smoothly at Ridge High. So that the school does not go into shock when she implements new rules. She wants to understand how security perform their duties. She wants her school to be the safest place to learn, and that is why she is making her hand cramp up by writing a page worth of notes.

“Alright,” Christen announces, finally finishing up the last bit of words. “Thank you for helping me with that, Michael.” 

“It's no problem at all, Christen,” the tall, dark man says. “Do you need help with anything else?”

“Uh, I think I am good,” Christen answers, as she scans through her scribbled words once before closing the book shut. “I will just get going. I need to make a visit with the counselors.”

“Do you know the way?” Michael asks politely.

“I am good, thank you for asking though.” 

“I am heading through the same way, so how about we walk with each other?” Michael offers, pointing his thumb towards the high school entrance. 

“Oh okay, I don't see why not,” Christen says. She turns a heel and already makes a head start towards that direction. 

Unprepared with how quickly she had shifted gears, Michael does a little half jog to catch up with the rushing principal. “Whoa, you're pretty quick for a little thing,” he huffs as he quickly ascends the stairs with her.

Christen laughs. “I didn't know speed was determinant by a person's height.”

“Oh, well, I guess it isn’t,” Michael laughs, unprepared with the smaller woman’s quick-witted comment. He did not expect that honestly. He thought she would be all business, but he sees a little playfulness now...and to him, it was a good sign to humor her back. “I guess height don’t matter when you got nice legs like yourself,” he says, while giving a wink.

“Thanks,” Christen says with a laugh, uncomfortable with his comment. “Working out does help with that.”

Despite relaying back a considerably cheerful comment, Christen grows slightly anxious with her interaction with the tall man. He seemed to be a nice guy at first, polite and sweet, but, now, she realizes that his little eye twitch earlier was him attempting to flirt. She is flattered, don't get her wrong, but she knows guys like him. They think that Christen is easy to get because she is generally an amiable person, but, honestly, she does not have time to deal with any of their games and, usually, she is just not interested. Especially now, since this is her first year at this school. She does not want any drama starting out in Basking Ridge. She was beginning to like it here.

After a couple paces of awkward silence between the principal and the head of security, Christen decides to kindly break it. “So where are you heading off to?” she asks.

Michael falters almost immediately. “Uh, just doing some rounds in the hallway. You don't know when kids will be ditching their classes. Could happen anytime.”

“Oh,” Christen says. 

She knows that was a lie though. Because, if she remembers correctly, he should be circulating the soccer and baseball fields right now, in which he missed his exit a while back. But, she keeps it to herself, knowing that the counselor’s office was coming up soon enough.

“And what will you be talking about with counselors? Gonna be scribbling in that book again?” Michael asks, tapping on the leather journal that the principal holds in her hands. He knows that his time with Christen was quickly running out as they were drawing closer to the counselor's’ office. He figures that he needed to start picking things up a notch. 

“Oh, yeah. I always am,” Christen admits, sheepish about her tendency to always write in her journal. “But I am hoping to go over policies with bullying and LGBT issues with them. I really want to get that right.”

“Oh, cool,” Michael comments as he nods his head. But then he begins to wonder. “But, are you...you know?”

And Christen stops walking, which worries the head of security. He did not mean to be offensive, he was generally curious, but he suddenly feels guilty for ever bringing it up the way he did. Maybe it is a sensitive topic for her, he thinks.

“Are you asking if I am gay?” Christen asks.

Michael nods. He doesn't want to say anything because the principal’s piercing green eyes somehow felt like they were drilling through the 6-foot-tall man. 

“Should it matter?”

“N-no?” he stutters, hoping he said the correct answer.

“It really shouldn’t,” she emphasizes, a little too sharply than intended. Christen notices her sharp-ish tone and tries to pull herself back to breathe and recollect herself. It is her first day today, and Christen does not want to start something with a man who may simply be ignorant. “Look, how about we be professionals and just not talk about our personal lives during work?” she says.

“We can outside of work, then?” Michael pushes meekly, trying to brush away his previous fearful disposition. He remains persistent, still cautiously keeping his eyes on the prize. “How about during lunch break today?” 

“No,” Christen replies, shaking her head. “We can’t. We are not permitted to leave campus during school hours,” she rebukes. “And that is really not a good idea, Michael. I am your boss.” 

“Oh, c’mon, Christen!” Michael urges. “You’re the principal! Also, if you want, you could invite the counselor ladies. It will just be a first-day-of-school celebration with a couple of coworkers. We are all just friends, alright? Lunch will be on me, and I won't take no for an answer.”

Christen sighs defeatedly. Michael was not going to give up. 

“Fine,” she says, but honestly regretting letting that monosyllabic word leave her lips. 

Christen only agrees because she does not want to hear anymore of the man’s persistence. She figures that she will only let this one time slip by her, and, if another time comes around, she will be prepared to reject the man. And, she also considers that getting free food does not sound completely terrible.

“Great,” he says with a dopey grin. “I look forward to it, Christen. Meet you and the other ladies at the parking lot.” 

He leaves without another word, in which Christen is thankful for. She prays, however, that she can figure out a way to have his obvious infatuation shut down real soon. She closes her eyes and inhales a long and slow breath, doing a mini-meditation session to alleviate her anxiety and maintain her cool. It is going to be okay, she thinks, he is not a problem.

After a few reps, Christen finally opens her eyes, feeling a lot calmer. But, within that same motion, her eyes suddenly line up to a photograph of a certain soccer coach with the million-dollar smile. 

The coach had a track jacket and a whistle around her neck--with her hair perfectly placed, eyeliner on, and lips glossy pink. Below it, it says: New Jersey’s Distinguished Coach of the Year Award - Tobin Powell Heath.

Christen walks closer to the glass cabinet designated for Ridge High’s soccer trophies and awards. There were team photos, player profiles, and an elaborate section-display dedicated to the high school’s favorite and most esteemed alumni. A photo dated back from 2001 showed a baby-faced Tobin looking as if she was drowning in that Ridge High jersey. She had the soccer ball by her side and wore the same amazing smile she still wears today. 

Then, Christen sees a photoset from the coach’s unbelievable career as an international and professional soccer player: the 2008 Olympics in Beijing, the 2012 Olympics in London, and the 2015 World Cup in Canada. 

Christen studies each image, absolutely amazed at the life Tobin got to live: the fans, the confetti, the golden medals around her neck. It all makes the principal wonder how her own life could have changed if she had followed through with soccer instead of resorting to the practicality of a real career. Could she have even made the national team with her skill? Could she be happy constantly moving around, always staying at hotels? Could she really love soccer to a point of being underpaid yet still commit so much work to it? Could she have made friends there? Could she have met Tobin there? Could she have--

Now, Christen steps away from the display, cautioning her thoughts. She knows that there isn’t any point in thinking about all of this. She is already the principal of Ridge High, and Tobin is their coach, and nothing can change that. She chose not to play soccer, and that’s that.

She turns to continue on with her journey to the counselor’s office, quickly forgetting about her slight predicament with Michael and head now buzzing with nagging thoughts that criticized her for possibly making the wrong career choice. A part of her said, “Good thing you got a real job, no one would ever take you seriously.” But, another side of her said, “You could have been happy. You would have loved it.” 

Deep down, though, in the midst of all that silent debating, Christen was ultimately amazed with the possibility of crossing paths with Tobin in either timelines, and she wonders if that sort of thing was supposed to happen.


	3. What's Your Favorite Eat-Out Place?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A double chapter update!

“Hey, Tobs,” Daniel Brown, owner of Dan’s Diner, calls, “Looks like Table 4 is ready for some cleaning!”

“Ya got it,” Tobin responds back with a head nod, after pouring her fine coffee for Mrs. Sandy King, a diner regular. 

Mrs. King hands a two dollar tip to the thirty-year-old, and Tobin accepts the cash graciously, gifting the elder woman back with her own world-famous smile. Then, resuming to obey her boss’s request, Tobin leans over the counter to pull out a plastic bin and a fresh towel, trotting her way to Table 4 to do some cleaning.

Dan’s Diner is Basking Ridge’s favorite diner, and Tobin Heath is everyone’s favorite gal. Aside from knowing her name as the soccer star prodigy and an amazing coach, everyone in town also can appreciate her ability to whip up the perfect blend of coffee, her stamina and endurance to serve and clear tables in a heartbeat, and her smile, which could always make anyone’s day a bit better. Tobin is a world-class waitress, and Daniel Brown is just lucky to ever have found her wandering back home after announcing her sudden retirement from soccer three years ago. 

Daniel closes the cash register and strides his way to Table 4, reaching out for the dirty plates and cups to help out his favorite employee. 

Tobin is surprised to see him come over, but she knows that he didn’t come here to just help her clean. “Hey, Danny. What’s up?” she asks, straightening up as she wipes her hands upon her apron.

He clears his throat and place the last of the forks into the plastic bin. “It’s been awhile since I have last seen you. How have you been lately? How’s your mom?”

Tobin nods slowly, realizing where this talk was heading. She pulls out her spray bottle from her belt and spritzes the table before putting it back on her waistline. She then takes the towel from her shoulder to wipe the table clean. “She’s good, you know. She’s with Katie now. They are probably catching up with each other, the usual.”

Daniel nods his head with a thin-lipped expression. “And you? How are you?”

“I’m alright,” Tobin answers light-heartedly with a slight shrug of her shoulders. “It is the first day of school, so the girls were all bummed about that today. It was pretty funny.” Tobin tucks the dirty towel into the apron’s front pocket and lifts the plastic bin upon her shoulder. 

“I’m sure,” he acknowledges. Daniel stands up straighter, on two legs now, recognizing that the brunette did not want to address the real topic at hand, and so the diner owner changes the focus, “And how are they? How’s my little Jessica?”

“She is doing great, boss,” Tobin answers kindly as she starts to make her way to the kitchen, appreciating that Daniel had understood her discomfort. Today was not the day for her to fall back onto that again, so, Tobin continues on to instead praise a particular Sophomore middie, “Her passes are amazing. I wonder where she got her eye for the passing lanes, Dan. She must have learned it from someone pretty sweet.” 

Daniel gives off a hearty laugh and pats a hand upon Tobin’s back, spirits lightening. “You are such a brown-noser.”

Tobin laughs, and slides the plastic bin she was carrying onto the counter for the dishwasher. She says a quick thanks to the younger boy who retrieves the bin of dirty dishes, before continuing on with the topic at hand, “But, seriously, the team is looking really good. It is really nice how cohesive everyone is. The talent on the team is crazy.”

“I’m sure it is not because of a certain talented coach, I suppose,” he jokes. 

“Certainly not,” Tobin laughs. 

The two finally make it to the front counter, and their good-natured attitudes immediately drop once they realized that a particular employee had not shown up for his shift yet. Already 11:04 am, lunch time rush was soon approaching. 

“Do you want me to--” Tobin begins to offer.

“No, no,” Daniel interrupts with a gruff voice, obviously frustrated with his son’s tardiness. “Go ahead and grab your lunch. I will cover for him.”

“Are you su--” 

“Yes,” Daniel says conclusively. “Now, head into the kitchen and treat yourself with something nice, Tobs. Tab is on me. And go now, before I change my mind and make you wish you hadn’t been such a kind person.”

Tobin smiles and salutes. “Sure thing, boss,” she says, while making her way back into the kitchen.

….

Press is freaking out. 

It is 11 am, and she stands in the parking lot with the counselors, Michelle Reyes and Samantha Newton. She told herself that she would try to figure out a way to stop Michael, the head of Ridge High security, from hitting on her, but her morning was just so busy taking care of last minute scheduling conflicts and helicopter parents that she did not have time to sit down and formulate a play-by-play game plan for these lunchtime events.

And so, while Christen stands there with the counselors out in the parking lot, her mind is on overdrive, trying to go through as many scenarios as she can so she can be somewhat prepared for any one of Michael’s advancing moves. For example, if Michael wanted to sit next to her in the diner, she would just have to cling herself in between both Samantha and Michelle the moment she leaves the car, leaving no opportunity for Michael to advance. Or, if Michael was to ask about her being single, Christen already has her wedding ring out ready and exposed, as well as a tasteful and simplified story to accompany it. Christen may be overreacting, but she just really does not want any drama, so she presumes that it is probably safer to be cautious and kill this thing early on.

Speaking of the devil, Michael pulls up to the three women in his car and greets them with, “Hello, ladies. Ready for some lunch?”

No, Christen thinks, but the other two women nod their heads, announcing how hungry they were. They slide into the backseat while thanking Michael for the invitation, and he smiles back at them, acknowledging their appreciation. 

“So, I am guessing you will be sitting up here with me,” he then declares to Christen as Samantha and Michelle settle themselves comfortably in the back.

Shoot, Christen thinks, forgetting about the driving situation. Christen defeatedly walks around the car towards the passenger seat, opens the door, and drops her body onto the leather interior. She tries to sit as close to the window and away from the center console as possible. 

Michael, however, notices the distance. “Is everything okay, Christen?” he asks.

She nods her head and gives a small smile. “Yeah, it’s just been a pretty busy morning, that’s all.” She crosses her arms and leans her head against the window, to really show her exhaustion.

It becomes a rather silent ride, aside from the small discussion of where they should eat for lunch. They asked Christen if she had been to any local eateries since coming to Basking Ridge, and, once she said she hadn’t, after shamefully admitting to the amount of Chinese takeout and pizza she has been eating lately, all three New Jerseyans immediately knew exactly where to go.

“Dan’s Diner is where it’s at,” Michael exclaims. “The burgers there are always perfect.”

“And, prices are always reasonable!” Samantha adds.

“Christen, do you know that our very own Tobin Heath works there?” Michelle comments.

And Christen sits up straighter after hearing that, interest quickly rising. “Oh, really?” 

“Oh, yes ma’am,” Michelle answers. “She is probably the best thing that has happened for the diner. She gives great service and whips up the best coffee in town.”

“It's true,” Michael also contributes. “But, I would even go further than that and say that she is probably the best thing to ever happen for Basking Ridge, period.”

Christen perks an eyebrow, curious about Michael’s appraisal towards the coach. “Why’s that?”

And Michael steals a glance of Christen’s eyes for the first time since she got into the car. He turns his head back to look ahead as he drives, “She, uh, somehow makes everything come together. I don’t know how she does it, but the town hasn’t felt much like a community before she got here. Everyone in town is really proud of what she has done with the US soccer team, and even more proud with how she has taken over Ridge High’s girls team. And, now all of these families, who used to give no attention to girls sports, are going to these soccer games, even if their daughters are not on the team, just because she has transformed the sport into this big town gathering. And, with the diner, it is just a local favorite, you know, and Tobin can just make everyone feel warm with her smile. The woman is honestly just a blessing to us all.”

Christen smiles at the man’s explanation, “Sounds like you’re a fan.”

Michael chuckles, aware that he always had good things to say about his good buddy. “Yeah, you can say that. She helped my little sister get into college with soccer, so yeah, I am gonna say I’m a fan.”

Christen’s eyebrows rise, surprised by how impactful Tobin actually was not only to the town in general, but even on the personal level. Christen was extremely impressed, to say the least.

“Here we are,” Michael announces, as he drives into the parking lot. “Looks like we managed to beat out the rush.”

The diner looks relatively busy already, so Christen could not imagine how crowded it must get once everyone’s lunch breaks come around. She looks through the diner windows, trying to see if she can find Tobin working, but, unfortunately, the view becomes lost way too soon as the car proceeds further into the parking lot. 

Despite her excitement to try to spot a certain brunette, Christen then remembers her initial plan to avoid Michael. But, after his rather candid speech about Tobin, Christen finds herself less anxious about him and reconsiders her initial impression of him. He seems to be more than just a guy hitting on her, and Christen begins to feel bad for ever judging him so soon.

She turns her body away from the side window and looks ahead, mind contemplating. She still has to shut down his advancements though. She does not want to keep worrying about whether or not he was going to ask her out again. 

Once the car becomes parked, Christen unfastens her seatbelt, leaves the car, and immediately links arms with Michelle and Samantha as soon as they exit themselves, excluding the man to stand awkwardly alone. It is better safe than sorry, the anxious principal decides.

“Lead the way, Michael,” Christen chirps coolly, in attempt to somehow include Michael and not make the intentional exclusion that obvious.

Michael nods and walks ahead. He, however, begins to get an inkling that Christen was avoiding him. He opens the door for the linked trio, and politely says, “After you,” despite being confused as hell as to why Christen would be deliberately distancing herself away from him when he hasn't even done anything wrong, at least he thinks he hasn’t.

After the four filed in, moods swiftly shift when they become hit with the most warm and welcoming atmosphere. They become lured in with the mouthwatering sizzle of the grill, the bumbling chatter of amiable conversation, and the exuberant scent of coffee. 

A large and full man, looking to be around in his late 50s, greets the party. “Mr. D’Anthony,” the man starts, giving a friendly nod at Ridge High’s head of security. “Ms. Newton. Mrs. Reyes,” he continues down the line to Christen, in which he extends out his hand for her. “And you must be our the new principal from LA...” and he notices the wedding band on her finger, “Mrs. Press?”

Christen smiles and shakes his hand. “How did you know?” she asks, understanding that no one really knew the surname of her spouse since she had been using her own ever since coming to Jersey, but, nevertheless, still impressed with the man’s deductive thinking.

“Danny knows everyone,” Samantha chirps, “because everyone goes to Danny!”

Daniel laughs heartily. “Oh, hush up, Sam. But, it is actually because my daughter goes to Ridge High. The school’s newsletters have been showing your face everywhere, so it’s kinda hard to not to notice you!”

Christen laughs. “Oh, I am sorry for that!”

“Ah, don’t you worry. I just hope you will enjoy your first time here at my diner,” he assures her. Then he turns to the rest of the party to ask, “So what will it be: booth or chairs?”

“Booth, please,” Michael answers for them. 

And, somehow, Christen loses grip with her female counterparts and becomes pushed to the back as Michelle and Samantha hungrily walk ahead to follow Daniel to their seats. Christen and Michael now trail at the back end of the group. So much for following the game plan, Christen thinks to herself.

“So what do you think of Daniel?” Michael asks nonchalantly.

“He’s really sweet,” Christen answers to the taller man. She fidgets with the ring on her hand, hoping that Michael got the memo when Daniel announced her name earlier.

Michael nods. “Yeah, he’s a good man,” he says, trying to look ahead and beyond the smaller and married woman beside him. Yeah, he definitely got the memo.

They become seated into the round booth: Michelle and Samantha in the middle, and Christen and Michael at the ends, facing each other. Daniel hands out the menus and asks if they wanted to start with anything to drink. The three New Jerseyans already had their orders in mind, though, so they made their requests right then and there. This rushes Christen into making a quick decision for a meal so she would not have to be an inconvenience. 

Daniel then departs the table with their orders noted: one big burger for the man, Mr. Michael D’Anthony; no onion and double patty. A cheeseburger for Ms. Samantha Newton. And two club sandwiches for Mrs. Michelle Reyes and Christen Press. Drinks will be two cokes, one iced tea, and then a glass of water, respectively. 

He makes his way to the kitchen to hand the cook the orders, but suddenly he finds himself stumbling over a pair of legs spread outstretched in the vicinity.

“Oh, shit, sorry boss!” Tobin exclaims, retracting her legs and holding onto the older man to help regain his balance.

Daniel places a hand on her shoulder, and chuckles. “Your damn lanky legs are dangerous in here. I am gonna have to kick you out, Tobs, before you accidentally kill a poor kitchenaid or something.”

Tobin nods with a chuckle of her own and gets up from her seat of a crate of potatoes. “Aye-aye, boss. Out in the real world and no killing kitchen aids. Got it.” 

Daniel shakes his head at Tobin’s antics. “And didn’t I say you should get something good to eat?” he adds, realizing that she only had a grilled cheese and a side of fries on her plate. “You didn’t need to pull from the kid’s section.”

Tobin stops before leaving through the kitchen doors and laughs. “This is something good!” she calls back in response, raising her plate as if it was enough evidence. And with that, she slips back on her headphones and pushes herself through the exit, leaving behind an air of Tobin Heath swagger in the kitchen, leaving Daniel to think that that young lady was certainly something else.

Tobin is now walking on-beat towards an empty stool near the front counter. She bobs her head and takes a bite from her grilled cheese, really stuck in her own world. She is so unaware of her surroundings that she does not even notice a pair of green eyes widening at the sight of her.

Christen spots Tobin across the way. With brown hair tied up in a unique half-bun, Tobin was wearing a white button down, black pants, and a red apron slung upon her shoulder. She is sitting on a lone stool near the front counter, diagonal from the principal. Christen wants to get up from her seat to greet herself to the coach, but she was unfortunately stuck in the middle of a conversation with her coworkers. Right now, they are talking about Samantha’s summer trip in Paris, at least that was what Christen thinks.

“It was beautiful!” the younger counselor muses. “My boyfriend was just the sweetest thing! The stars, the lights, the--”

And Christen is trying her best to be attentive and listen. But, how could she? Whenever she sees Tobin shift in her seat from the corner of her eyes, it causes Christen to intensely drum her fingers on her lap because she worries that Tobin would leave soon before she could get out of this conversation. She considers excusing herself from the table right then and there, but she decides against it. She convinces herself that being polite with this group of coworkers will help take her far here. She really needs to make good friends while she’s in Jersey.

“So, Christen, how’s your husband?” Michael asks suddenly.

Christen stills. “What?” she asks confused, blind-sided--mostly due to the fact that the principal still hadn’t gone out of the headspace of trying to convince herself to girl-the-hell-up and just speak to Tobin. She had not even realized that Samantha’s story had finished already.

“How’s your husband?” Michael repeats as he reaches for his coke and sips from it. “I was not aware you were hitched.”

“Oh!” Christen exclaims, finally catching on. And, in her peripheral vision, she finally sees Tobin go up and grab her empty plate to leave. Christen inwardly sighs watching the coach walk away, but continues on with the conversation at hand, “My wife is alright. Just back in LA, while I’m here.” Christen only speaks simply here, following through with her plan to share her brief marriage story to Michael, acting as if that relationship was anything but complicated at the moment.

“Oh, Michael, how could you be so heteronormative?” Michelle chastised the man beside her. “How long have you two been together?” she asks the principal with a warm, excited smile.

“Four years,” Christen answers, not accounting for the number of times the couple had been on-and-off, constantly fighting and crying and--

“That’s amazing,” Samantha smiles. “Do you think she will come and visit anytime soon? I’d love to meet her!”

Christen shakes her head. “No, I don’t think so. Her job does not allow her to make many trips. She’s a lawyer, so she’s always busy.” 

“Well, I hope you guys well,” Michael says, raising his cup of coke. “Long-distance can be difficult.”

Christen nods. If only the distance was the problem, she thinks. 

And, without any warning, the principal becomes forcefully thrown down into memory alley, remembering every major fight her and her wife had just prior to her departure for Jersey: the screaming the night before her flight, the broken wall, the ugly crying in the car ride there, and her wife’s echoing vow to sign the divorce papers if Christen stepped foot outside of their house. 

Christen slowly gets up and purses her lips, trying to pull herself back from tearing up. It surprises her how emotional she got all of a sudden, but she thinks that she should have seen this coming. She was always the emotional person.

“If you all don’t mind, I am going to head into bathroom,” Christen announces, swallowing down the sad whimper that was trying to claw itself up. She crosses her arms and makes her way to the bathrooms before anybody could ask what was wrong.

As she enters the hall that led to the bathrooms, she suddenly hears a familiar voice call out in front of her. “Christen?”

Christen looks up from the ground and sees that it is Tobin. 

And, of course, it is Tobin. Just 10 minutes prior, Christen was so adamant in seeing the coach, and now she is just so frustrated with herself for not welcoming Tobin with her usual happy attitude. On any other circumstance, Christen would be smiling right now, as she notices that Tobin has her collar popped up, her baby hairs gracefully framing her face, and her red apron scrunched up into a ball in her wet hands, as she used it as a makeshift towel. Christen is supposed to be happy, eyes wrinkling at the sight of the laxed coach, but instead, her smile is weak and wavers way too easily. The whimper that she had fought so hard against finally rips out upon seeing the familiar face looking genuinely worried for her. 

Christen begins to shake as long-awaited tears drop from her eyes, and Tobin quickly responds by closing the distance and setting her arm around the teary-eyed woman. She guides Christen inside the bathroom, where it was a bit more private than out in the hall.

“What’s wrong?” Tobin asks softly, grabbing a tissue from a new roll nearby and wiping Christen’s tears off herself. It feels intimate, but Tobin doesn’t mind. She just does not want Christen to cry anymore. “Hey, hey, hey, it’s okay,” Tobin says, drawing the principal closer when Christen begins to shake harder with her crying pants. “It’s okay to just cry. It’s alright. Just tell me when you’re ready.”

Christen then forces a wry smile and shakes her head. “I-I can’t believe that I am crying right now. It is my first day, and I’m crying. Can you believe that?” Christen shakes her head once again and laughs at herself, throwing her hands down by her sides, feeling absolutely defeated.

Tobin tilts her head to try to regain eye contact with the tearful principal. “Did someone bully you on the first day of school? I will beat them up for you. Just say the word, Chris, and I’ll do it.” 

And Christen laughs, for real this time, and Tobin smiles back, noticing how Christen’s face has grown to be more relaxed, her cheeks more susceptible to subtle smiles, and, of course, her green eyes shining with a little more lightness. 

“You think I’m joking,” Tobin continues, chuckling a bit herself, “But I’m being serious. I do a gnarly roundhouse kick. The bully won’t even stand a chance.”

Christen now feels herself regaining a lot more control since the initial hysterical sorrow begins to dissipate away. After a couple calming pants and breathy giggles, Christen finally answers Tobin’s head tilt that urged the principal to give more of an explanation. 

“I… I just was reminded about something and I was not really prepared for it,” she says through broken breaths.

Tobin nods her head. “A bit cryptic, but I get you,” Tobin replies, understanding why the principal omitted the details. “Maybe it is something we could talk about it later? When we are not in a public restroom?”

And Christen nods, happy to hear that they could meet again when she is not a complete mess. Once Christen had finally calmed down, Tobin, much to her dismay, pulls away the hand that had been gently holding the principal’s back and steps back, giving both of them a little space to breathe and finally fall back onto reality. To say that they were both regretting the current distance between them, though, was an understatement.

Christen sniffles and stares into the mirror in front of her. She runs her hands from her forehead through the top of her head, making sure that any loose baby hairs were set firmly back into place. She finds Tobin’s eyes through the mirror reflection and asks, “So how do I look, coach?” referring to her puffy eyes, flushed face, and dried up tears upon her cheeks. 

“Like a superstar,” Tobin then answers back, with a small smile playing upon her lips. 

And even though Christen did not believe it one bit, the way the coach said it almost made the principal think otherwise.


End file.
